


my black eye casts no shadow

by theformerone



Series: ShikaSaku Week 2018 [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theformerone/pseuds/theformerone
Summary: A head shot is a good way to end a fight it under a minute, and he's already taken that from her. She notices. She smiles.Day 2: Blood/Sweat





	my black eye casts no shadow

**Author's Note:**

> title lifted from Florence + the Machine's 'Kiss With a Fist'

 "Begin!"

She hits the ground running like she always does, not bothering with a weapon because in a close quarters fight, why would she need one? Even against his knuckle dusters, her own fists are more than enough. 

They're allowed kunai, shuriken, and the like. Any bukijutsu they know is fair game. Their chakra has been restricted with tidy arm seals; no clan techniques or Godaime strength. If they want to maintain their certification, they have to pass this portion of the examination. Kaguya had been warning enough for the shinobi world; chakra alone was not enough to stop a vengeful goddess who could eat it at will. 

But if you were fast enough with a knife, you might have enough time to distract her while someone else came in for the kill. 

His knuckle dusters are like Asuma's, a gift actually, from Kurenai. Their serrated edges are familiar to him, and he keeps them close to guard his face while she begins her assault. He knows her patterns like he knows the back of his own hand, knows she won't aim for the face when there's something sharp there that might cause her harm she could avoid. 

A head shot is a good way to end a fight it under a minute, and he's already taken that from her. She notices. She smiles. 

She lashes out with a kick that would knock the intestines out of him if her chakra was powering it. As it is, it'll probably give him some solid internal bruising either way. Maybe some bleeding. Even her love taps leave scars. 

He takes the hit, only because it lets him grab her leg. He locks his arms around it, anticipating the way she brings her second leg up to kick him in the head. While she's hanging between balance and a connecting hit, he uses gravity to slam her down into the earth. 

She doesn't see that coming. She lands and lets herself see stars for a moment. In the next breath, he's on her, and she's launched up onto her back, on the defensive as he charges in with his fists ready for blood. 

She bobs and weaves, easy careful. She knows how he moves. Fluid and easy, like darkness creeping slowly over the world as dusk overtakes day. He's right handed but he favors his left because he's worked twice as hard to make himself ambidextrous. She attacks it, blocking one strike and curving her wrist so she can get a lock on his. 

She could snap it if she wanted to. Godaime strength or not, she was strong enough to do it. As it is, she slams her foot down onto his instep, hard enough to bruise but not enough to break.

He leaves his foot beneath hers, stepping out with his opposite one to aim a strike with his knuckle dusters at her spine. She can't deflect it from where she stands. She rises off his foot, and for a moment they are back to back, his weapon aiming to pierce her red qipao. 

She drops to the floor, sweeping out her leg to knock him off his feet. 

He stumbles, recovers his footing and takes a few hesitant steps back. She's already rising, fists close to her feet. She takes a little jump, aims a spinning back kick for his head. 

She expects it when the trench knife bites into her shin. She doesn’t make a single sound at the pain. He winces in sympathy. She lifts an eyebrow, as if to ask if he really thinks that's enough to stop her. 

Maybe it's enough to make him sleep on the couch tonight, but it's certainly not going to make her lose this match. 

She forces her leg to follow through, ignoring the pain that shoots all the way up her leg. She's dealt with worse during the war. He snakes his fingers out of the knuckle duster, and steps out of the way of her kick as she lands. 

She drops to one knee, and carefully extracts the weapon from her leg. She fits her fingers through the holes, smiling still. 

She can't use them as well as he can, but she understands the basic principles. That alone is enough to make a kunoichi of her caliber at least three times as dangerous. 

He watches her come in to slit his throat, and he loves her. 

From there, he expects a war of attrition and he gets one. They both know that in a close quarters fight, she’s better than him any day of the week whatever the weather. He’s a long range fighter primarily, and he has to work twice as hard to round out his skillset. Being a tactician mostly helps with that, but not against her.

Their IQs might not be the same, but she’s been on a team with three ANBU, one jinchuuriki, and one Uchiha. She knows how to scrap, to scrabble, to fight dirty, to grit her teeth and demand victory even when there’s blood in her eyes.

She’ll take a hit that will crack her rib into her lung because she knows it’ll make her an opening to slam her palm into a nose, send cartilage into nervous tissue, and end a fight as soon as it begins.

He can plan for everything, even her unpredictability. It’s of a different kind than that of her teammates. Hers is measured despite its wrath. Not cautious, but careful. Considering.

It relied on her history as the underdog. On people underestimating her as they always had and probably still would despite her reputation. Even now, he had not thought she would take a knife to the shin just to get one of them off of him and into her own hands.

Every day, she still manages to surprise him.

She lands a hit on his cheek that leaves a thin cut, and she smiles. Blood for blood, and he knows that it’s fair. He wonders what she’ll tell him to make for dinner tonight because she’ll win.

She can see the moment he decides to concede the match, and her eyes light up not in rage but in frustration. He won’t hear the end of it if he lets her win, but she should know by now that he isn’t _letting_ her do anything. She’ll grind him into the floor if he lets her, and everyone watching the fight knows it.

Still. He’s gotten much better under her tutelage. He’s lasting much longer than they expected him to.

Her frustration wins out. She won’t let him lose, and she’s going to win no matter what scenario he tries to think up.

If he’s going to concede, she’s going to damn well give him a reason to concede.

He’ll kiss her later, for using her bare fist to snap his cheekbone, just barely hitting his eye enough to cause damage. He feels it swell as the force of the hit takes him back. At least she didn’t use the fist with the pointy bits on it.

He lands awkwardly as the hit takes him off his balance. He brings one hand up to his face, tenderly touching the tired muscle there. Then, he takes off the knuckle duster on his hand and tucks it away, before raising his hand and yielding.

“Nara-san yields to Nara-san!” a voice bellows.

She removes the knives on her hands, and easily peels off the paper seal constricting her chakra. She walks over to him and with a gentle hand, pats the cheek she’s damaged.

“Soba,” she says, smiling.

He chuckles, wincing at her first touch and relaxing as she begins healing what she damn near snapped in half. When she finishes, he reaches up and wraps his fingers around her dainty (dangerous) wrist. He squeezes it, and smiles back at her. 

“Yes, dear.”


End file.
